


A Dream Pang

by Exia



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy, I NEEDED THIS, Reunion, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1857864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exia/pseuds/Exia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lost her. Ages ago, when he was another man. But somehow, he never quite stopped looking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Pang

**Author's Note:**

> The tenth Doctor and Rose are separated because reasons. He’s since regenerated, but never quite stopped looking for her. Not canon compliant. At all. Not even a little.

There was a blond woman moving through the crowd.

 The Doctor, no stranger to travel, had seen more than his fair share of blond human females; it was a common hair color - and an even more common dye job. Of course, in this age, it was impossible to tell the difference between a natural hair color and the result of a superb coloring. For all that the Doctor longed to be a redhead himself, he was partial to blondes.

 Which was the only rational argument he could come up with for why he was following this particular woman through the market.

 He’d known one, once. Well. He’d known a lot, actually. But one in particular stuck out more than any of the others. He’d lost her...a lifetime ago. When he’d worn a striped suit and a jacket given to him by Janis Joplin. Even as the centuries had passed, he’d always kept one eye out, hoping to see her again.

 This woman…

 He hadn’t even gotten a proper look at her. Just that the way she walked was enough to catch his attention. The flash of a jaw had him following her around, striving for a second look. She couldn’t be here, of course. They were three galaxies and one hundred forty three thousand six hundred and twenty years away from where he’d last seen her. Without time travel, she could never make it to this particular market at this particular time. This _wasn’t her._ Couldn’t be. And he wasn’t interested in making a fool of himself _again_ by calling her name out over the busy crowd.

 So, naturally, he stalked her.

 He followed her from place to place, stall to stall, wishing she’d turn her head; hoping she’d give him just one good look so that he could leave her alone and go back to his travels in peace. But she was always turned _just so_ , her hair falling over her shoulder...and he couldn’t see her face.

 She turned away from the last stall with more of a sense of purpose than he’d seen her exhibit thus far, wandering from shop to shop as she had. Now, she turned her head away and stalked determinedly down the center aisle, hand gripping her shoulderbag casually. He scrambled to follow her without being too obvious; he was more than a little awkward this go round, and she was skilled at sliding through the gaps in the crowd.

 He stumbled, and he lost her; she’d vanished by the time he regained his balance and looked up. He dashed forward, peering around corners and down alleys. Hoping that she’d known he was following her and she was setting up some sort of “who are you and why are you stalking me” trap. But no such luck. She wasn't anywhere. She wasn’t going to confront him, and it wasn’t magically going to be her.

 It hadn’t been her in the first place.

 Shoulders rounded dejectedly, he trudged back to the TARDIS, bumping into people and not caring one whit. He’d been unable to stop his hopes from rising, and now he was suffering as his mood dropped. Still no Rose.

 But as he got closer to the corner on which he’d parked the TARDIS, he realized that there was a woman with blonde hair standing there, staring at it. The body language was tense, her shoulders an iron bar. He approached cautiously, squashing any emotion before it could rise and he would see its shape. He _would not_.

 She was whispering. He caught snatches of sounds, but not enough to even hint at actual words. He saw movement and glanced down. Her hands were shaking.

 So were his.

 He stepped carefully around her, moving to lean against the TARDIS as casually as he could muster. He started at her feet, unable to take her in all at once.

 Scuffed shoes, built for running and walking in all sorts of terrains and conditions. Long trousers of indeterminate fabric, with cargo pockets on the outside of each leg for extra storage. Fitted jacket hanging open over a button up shirt, tight enough to avoid the restriction of movement. And...oh god.

 Wide mouth, square jaw, bright eyes filled with tears. Strong eyebrows and bottle blond hair. It was _her._

 He made to take a step towards her, but other than a flick of eye towards him, she dismissed his presence in favor of staring longingly at the TARDIS. That stung more than he thought it would, and he subsided before ever really moving.

 “Do you know him?” she asked in a whisper so soft he almost missed it. “The man who owns this box, do you know him?”

 “I do.”

 She took in a shaky breath, closing her eyes and holding it for a moment before blowing it back out again in one great rush. “Is he…” she licked her lips, refusing to look at him. “Is he okay?”

 The Doctor hesitated, unsure as to what to say. She knew he could regenerate. Knew there was a chance that he was who she sought. But she wasn’t asking. “Yes. He’s okay.”

 She sagged, her eyes opening to look at him with relief. “I’m so glad.” She studied him for the first time, taking him in instead of the TARDIS. “I’m...not sure if I can tell you my name. I don’t know if I’m from his past or future.”

 The Doctor bobbed his head, appreciating her caution. A part of him wanted to just end the charade, tell her his name, and sweep her into his arm. But, she seemed fragile. As if the right word in the wrong place would shatter her utterly. He’d just got her back - he didn’t dare do anything to scare her away.

 A thought hit him, sucking the air out of his chest and he wheezed. What if she didn’t want to come back? What if she wanted to stay here, live whatever life she’d carved for herself since they’d been separated? She must have something...she was so far away from where he’d seen her last. He struggled for a deep breath, eyes blown wide.

 “You alright, mate?”

 She was at his side, her hand on the arm that had come up to lay across his stomach. He could feel the heat of her body from here, taste her salt-sweat on his tongue. See the concern in her eyes.

 “How-how long?” he stuttered over his words. “How long has it been since you saw him?”

 Her eyes shuddered and she withdrew, her gaze turning inward, “...a long time.”

 “How long, Rose Tyler?”

 Her head snapped up, gaze searching his. “You know my name?” she demanded.

 “You once were given a promise that you would not be forgotten. He kept it.”

 She bit her lip in an effort to keep from blurting out her thoughts.

 He watched her carefully, unsure as to what to say next.

 “...three years. For me, anyway.”

 He blew out a grateful breath and nodded. He was so thankful that she’d not been without him for longer.

 “How long, do you know...has it been for him?” she asked, voice tentative.

 Mind on how to tell her his identity, the Doctor answered without thought, “Three hundred sixty two years, two months, four days, five hours and twelve minutes.”

 Her gasp brought him back to their conversation, his eyes flying up to lock with hers.

 “...roughly.” he finished lamely.

 “Roughly. Right.” She eyed him, gaze piercing.

 Uncomfortable, he shifted, reaching up to adjust his bowtie.

 “Soo,” she said, drawing the word out. “He told you my name. What’s yours, then?”

 The Doctor froze, his mind going blank. Moment of truth. “I’m - my name? Well, I mean. That’s…” he trailed off, eyes cutting guiltily back and forth between her and the ground. His hand ruffled the hair at the back of his head.

 She laughed sadly. “Coward.”

 The word was said so softly, he wasn’t sure that he’d heard her properly. He peered up at her from through his lashes and saw her looking at him with fond exasperation.

 “I used to think you were the bravest man I’d ever met. But you really aren’t, are you?”

 He slumped against the TARDIS, the only thing keeping him upright. “Coward every time, me,” he mumbled in a passable imitation of his old northern accent.

 She stepped up close to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and brought his face up. “What’s your name?” she asked in an intimate whisper, almost pressed against him.

 He swallowed. The only thing he could see, her eyes. “I’m the Doctor.”

 She sobbed out a laugh, “There. Not too hard?”

 He stared at her in silence, drinking in her features. She licked her lips and his gaze dropped to that hint of tongue.

 “Rose-”

 She rose up on her toes and kissed him.

 The force of it caused him to stumble for a moment, one hand flying out to slap against the side of the TARDIS to steady them. The other wrapped around her waist to keep her there when she pulled back.

 “Doctor?” she breathed.

 He answered her with a kiss. She tasted of peach chapstick and the fruit tart she’d tried a sample of in the bazaar, her hands slid into his hair as he used his height advantage to bend her back, just a little. She whimpered in the back of her throat as he began to pull away and he hummed in response; placing small, chaste kisses down on her lips to soothe the sting.

 He pulled away just far enough to cup her face in his hands, dropping one final kiss on the tip of her nose. “Rose Tyler, you are fantastic. However did you end up here?”

 She grinned, and he saw her tongue-touched smile for the first time in almost four hundred years. “Let me in, and we’ll talk about it over a cup of tea, yeah? My key doesn't seem to work anymore.”

 He puffed up, anticipating a chance to show off. “No keys work anymore.”

 “Oh?” she arched a brow, catching his change in mood.

 “The lock is for show.” He released her and stepped back to lounge against the TARDIS again, a smug smile creeping over his features.

 “Well? Go on, then. Mr. Impressive,” she teased.

 “I _am_ so impressive,” he responded, and snapped his fingers.

 The TARDIS doors clicked open and Rose’s hands flew to her face in awe. “It’s amazing! You’re both so different! I love it.”

 He rounded the corner and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

 She slid a hand through his elbow, clinging to him tightly. “Yes. We shall.”

 The Doctor and Rose stepped into the TARDIS, the blue doors closing behind them. The Stuff of Legends, together at last.

 -

  _I had withdrawn in forest, and my song_

_Was swallowed up in leaves that blew away;_

_And to the forest edge you came one day_

_(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,_

_But did not enter, though the wish was strong:_

_You shook your pensive head as who should say,_

_‘I dare not—too far in his footsteps stray—_

_He must seek me would he undo the wrong._

 

_Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all_

_Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;_

_And the sweet pang it cost me not to call_

_And tell you that I saw does still abide._

_But ’tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,_

_For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof._

 

~ A Dream Pang by Robert Frost


End file.
